CHAPTER 2: THE LYCAN KING ARRIVES
946 Words
CHAPTER 2: THE LYCAN KING ARRIVES
The dagger was still in her hand when the horns sounded.
Aira froze, her bloodied palm hovering over the Bond Stone. The cut stung, but the pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in her chest where the mating bond had once been. The rejection had carved her out, left her raw.
And yet—the horns.
Blackwater’s war horns.
Three sharp blasts, then a long, mournful note that trembled through the trees.
Royal summons.
Her wolf, still curled in the ruins of her mind, lifted its head. “Something’s coming.”
Aira wiped her hand on her torn shift, the fabric stiff with dried sweat and blood. The stranger in the shadows had vanished, leaving only the echo of his words: "To watch you burn them all."
She didn’t have time to dwell on it.
Outside, the pack was in chaos. Omegas sprinted through the paths, their arms full of fresh linens and woven garlands. Betas barked orders, their voices sharp with urgency. Warriors stood rigid at their posts, fists clenched.
And then she heard it—the whisper that slithered through the pack like wildfire.
"The Lycan King is coming."
Her breath caught.
Lycan. Not just a wolf, but something older, wilder. A king who ruled not by bloodline, but by the kind of power that made even alphas kneel.
And he was coming here.
A rough hand grabbed her arm.
Old Mother Nisha’s milky eyes bore into hers. "You’re still pack, rejected or not. Every omega is to gather in the Great Hall—now."
Aira yanked free. "Why?"
Nisha’s lips thinned. "Because the Lycan King does not tolerate disorder. And if even one of us is out of place when he arrives, the entire pack will bleed for it."
---
The Great Hall, which had been a tomb of ice and judgment just hours before, was now a flurry of terrified omegas.
Aira stood at the back, her arms crossed, her spine straight. She refused to cower. Refused to let them see how the rejection still trembled in her bones.
Lira, golden and gleaming in her beta’s leathers, sneered as she passed. "Still here, discard? I’d have thought you’d slink off to die somewhere."
Aira bared her teeth. "Disappointed?"
Lira’s smile faltered.
Before she could retort, Alpha Jarek strode in, his presence like a storm. The omegas immediately dropped to their knees—all but Aira.
His gaze locked onto her, a flicker of something dark in his eyes. Guilt? Fury?
It didn’t matter.
"Listen well," he growled. "The Lycan King arrives at sundown. Every inch of this territory must be spotless. Every omega must be presentable. If even one of you disgraces us—" His claws unsheathed. "You will wish the king killed you before I finished."
Aira didn’t flinch.
Jarek’s nostrils flared. He opened his mouth—
Then the drums started.
Deep, resonant, vibrating through the earth itself.
He was here.
---
The pack assembled in the clearing, ranks rigid. Alphas at the front. Betas behind. Omegas at the very back, heads bowed.
Aira stood among them, but she didn’t lower her gaze.
The forest shuddered.
And then he stepped into the light.
Xavier, the Lycan King, was not what she expected.
He was taller than any alpha, his frame thick with corded muscle, his skin marked with the silver scars of a hundred battles. His hair was black as a starless night, tied back with a leather cord. His eyes—
Oh, Goddess.
His eyes were gold.
Not the warm amber of a wolf. Not the pale yellow of a beta.
Gold. Like molten metal. Like the sun trapped in a predator’s gaze.
The pack dropped to their knees. Even Jarek bowed his head.
Aira didn’t move.
And then—
The king looked at her.
Not a glance. Not a passing acknowledgment.
A look. The kind that stripped her bare, that saw past the omega’s shift, past the rejection, past the blood still crusted under her nails.
His nostrils flared.
And then—
A growl.
Low. Deep. Hungry.
Her wolf jolted awake, a whimper tearing from her throat.
No.
No, no, no—
Because she knew that sound.
She’d heard it once before, when Jarek had first scented her.
Mate.
But this wasn’t just a wolf’s claim.
This was a Lycan’s.
And the way Xavier’s gaze darkened, the way his claws flexed—
He knew it too.
---
The feast was a mockery.
Aira, like all omegas, was meant to serve. To kneel at the edges of the hall, to pour wine and keep silent.
But Xavier’s eyes followed her every move.
She could feel it—the weight of his stare, the heat of it. Every time she passed near the high table, his grip tightened on his goblet. Every time another alpha spoke to him, his jaw clenched.
And Jarek?
Jarek noticed.
She saw the way his fingers dug into his thigh, the way his gaze flickered between her and the king.
Did he regret it now?
She hoped it burned.
Then—
"Omega."
Xavier’s voice was a rumble, deep enough to shake the bones in her chest.
The hall went silent.
Aira lifted her chin.
He held out his cup. "Wine."
A test.
She stepped forward, her hands steady as she poured.
His fingers brushed hers.
A spark.
Her breath hitched.
His eyes burned into her.
And then, so quiet only she could hear—
"Run."
Not a threat.
A warning.
Because if she stayed, if he claimed her here—
The pack would never let her go.
And the Lycan King?
He always got what he wanted.
- Writer
